Jeremy Dyme, Attorney
San Francisco, via Michigan; St. Louis; Memphis; Ranger, Texas; and San Diego
Last spring, my law firm laid off a hundred attorneys. I stuck it out till Christmas, but then the firm went under. I tried to be realistic. I could sit and stew in my apartment, making as many unsolicited calls as possible. But my apartment lease was coming up, and so the first week of January, I got a one-way ticket to Michigan.

I bought a 1999 Oldsmobile and took a road trip with a friend to California. We did the arch in St. Louis, ate ribs in Memphis, and then broke down in Ranger, Texas, where the town’s undertaker stopped to help us out. Then we got stuck in a Central Texas ice storm, so we holed up in a little motel for a few days. It was like we walked into No Country for Old Men. The only thing to do was to sit in the truck stop and make friends. Eventually we stumbled into San Diego, where I stayed for a few weeks and then drove solo up Highway 1, like right out of the playbook.

I’ve been in San Francisco for a month, bouncing around between friends. I want to enjoy my time here, but I don’t want to sit on the sidelines forever. I’ve been firing off résumés for all types of jobs. I only packed a small duffel bag of clothes and one suit. I’d come back to New York in a heartbeat.